Chapter: Product #2 Spring in A Major

Summary: Mirror mirror on the wall... show me which is the one true world.

Rating: M

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and overall weirdness.


Hot cold dead hot light alive dead light alive—

The world tilts and none of that matters anymore.

By the time it does matter, Satoru has lost all track of time and space. He doesn't know how long it has been, or where he is, or why.

He was at Origin, after breaking free of the Prison Realm, with the Yagami chatting excitedly and nervously all around.

"Victory," Sukuna had said.

Home, Satoru hears now.

But this isn't Victory, or Origin, or likely, none of the other colonies. Satoru is a revered guest, he's Satoru-kakka. He wouldn't be all tied up and blindfolded in any of the colonies, especially not in the not-fun way.

And if he was, he doubts the ropes and blindfold would be covered in talismans.

Satoru jerks against his bindings, trying to get out of the spread standing position he has been forced into, but the ropes don't budge. He tries to open his eyes behind the blindfold, but it's tied too strongly for him to manage.

His breath becomes erratic, the world feeling darker than his closed eyes could attest, emptier, a new prison to hold him.

He snarls, pulls on his bindings again, and starts amassing cursed energy in his core. He can't use it, that's what the talismans are for, but he will never again be trapped without a fight, without giving it his all—

"Ah, you're awake."

Satoru stiffens, frozen for a second as he realizes he knows that voice – and then, he snarls, far more threateningly than he thinks he has ever done.

"Ieiri Shoko," he hisses, facing the voice even if he's still as blind as a mole, before he lets the snarl twist into a fanged grin. "I'm going to kill you," he promises sweetly, voice soft, and he can practically see the startled flinch from the impostor, betrayed by the softest shuffling of their feet. "It won't be fast, like with Tsukumo Yuki. I'll draw it out, make it slow and excruciating. You will beg me for death, and I will deny you. The next generations will grow up with the sound of your screams as their lullabies."

Whoever dares to impersonate one of his best friends now, once he's finally got rid of curse-Tengen and the shackles of the past, deserves far worse than death. If it's a puppet, if it's Tengen again, with his Immortality technique, or Kenjaku with his body swapping, they will pay.

His grin sharpens, distorts, but Satoru doesn't even know what with. There's too much anger, too much exhaustion weighing him down, too much excitement at what the future will bring and how this pathetic being will pay for getting in his way now.

Oh, yeah. There's a future now, one Satoru is actually excited about. The old world did what they had to. Satoru is proud, and while he won't forget, he won't cling to the past anymore.

And in this world of curses, in this hierarchy of strength, Satoru is at the top. He's a special grade, the Yagami thought him one of them. He's Satoru-kakka, and Satoru-sama, the Strongest Vengeful Spirit, and one of the four Imaginary Gods.

He's Unlimited. And this impostor will soon learn what that means.

"My, my. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," fake-Shoko chuckles, in a way that is so like the actual Shoko that Satoru can almost see the way her lips would curl, one finger toying with a lock of hair.

"Can you blame me?" Satoru hisses, pulling on his restraints once more, anger slowly filling his previous grin as the fake toys with him.

His cursed energy rushes through his body, bumping into scars, old and new, and straining against the new skin on his chest, stomach, back… It burns, in a way that Satoru learnt long ago was bad, but that now, with age and experience, he knows he can control.

He destroyed a whole colony, and escaped unscathed. He can obliterate whatever gets on his way, no matter how many talismans they slap on him. And especially when they are so careless.

His wrists and ankles are tightly bound, and the talismans ensure no cursed energy will get out of his body. His eyes are blindfolded, keeping the Six Eyes hidden and passive.

But passive isn't inert, and there are more ways to use cursed energy than to let it all out.

"No, I guess I can't. How did you get out of the Prison Realm? Who freed you?"

"Freed me?" Satoru snarls, and hears fake-Shoko take another step back before they catch themselves. "I broke out, destroyed the damn thing from the inside out."

"Eeh, really? Huh, I should have probably guessed, what with you being you," not-Shoko chuckles condescendingly, that echo of her soft grin flashing once more in his mind, and Satoru almost burns with the intensity of his cursed energy concentrating in his veins. "Did you mention Tsukumo Yuki? She showed up at Shibuya but disappeared off of the face of the Earth just after. I didn't know you knew her."

Satoru breathes in and smiles. There's another shuffle, as whoever is impersonating Shoko tries not to flinch back again.

Their act might be nigh perfect, but unlike the actual Ieiri Shoko, they fear Satoru. Shoko wouldn't, she knew Satoru wouldn't hurt her on purpose. But this fake is all too aware of their position.

"Oh, we met. She tried to kill me," Satoru whispers, and almost hears the click of the impostor's jaw snapping closed. "She failed. The Prison Realm wasn't strong enough. Nothing is strong enough. Not her constructs. Not her body. Not her mind. She turned to dust in under a second, blown away by the wind. Poetic, if you ask me. And incredibly satisfying," he purrs, never raising his voice, and making sure to tilt his head in a way that, regardless of illumination, the shadows cast on his grin will make anyone shiver.

"I see. I'm sorry, Satoru. I'm going to keep you doing here for a bit longer, if that's the case," fake-Shoko answers, though that imaginary grin on her face has turned cold.

Satoru's smooths in turn, becomes softer, more cheerful. As if he wasn't tied up and immobilized, as if this was just another of their chats, as if he wasn't just about to break free of his restraints and make the bastard pay.

"That's fine. I'm sure Sukuna will appreciate the break."

Something in the air changes, and the innocent smile curling Satoru's lips turns fanged. Ah, there it is at last, the stench of fear, like blood in the water. And Satoru is the metaphorical shark.

He focuses his cursed energy on his wrists and ankles, just above the restraints and the thrice-damned talismans, and waits for his cue.

"Sukuna?"

It almost sounds innocently curious. Almost.

Satoru softens the edges of his grin, but doesn't bother hiding away the threat and excitement for the upcoming bloodshed.

"Ah, let me guess. You don't know who I am, or why I'm tossing that name around so carelessly. Mighty Curse Emperor Sukuna, of course everyone knows him. But me? Well, my tale might have got a bit lost over the centuries," he answers calmly, almost cheerfully, almost with an innocent pout, but there's too much anger and bloodlust in his grin and voice to pull it off.

"Who are you?" fake-Shoko asks, low and serious in a way the true Shoko rarely was, finally realizing their mistake, and Satoru throws away the flimsy 'harmless' look he'd been trying—and failing—to put on.

"I am the Strongest Vengeful Spirit, one of the Four Gods," he whispers, all teeth and the promise of agony in his voice, the cursed energy in his wrists and ankles splitting in two— "I. Am. Unlimited."

—and the first half twists, broken muscle and bone shredding his hands and feet off, while the second activates the reversed cursed technique that regrows them almost immediately once free of the talismans.

Fake-Shoko takes in a sharp inhale – and runs.

Satoru doesn't pursue. First, because he has just touched down after his feet regrew, deactivating his Limitless, and everything hurts, damnit!

And second, because the blindfold is still on, and he needs a moment to get over the burning in wrists and ankles. Once he has, he rotates his right wrist, feeling the bones, new and old, move smoothly over each other. Then, he brings the hand up, cursed energy so densely condensed that it is almost blinding, to rip the blindfold off.

It burns in his hand, peeling skin off that is almost immediately regrown. Satoru huffs, and glares down at his fingers. There are very faint white spots where the new skin regrew… which is kind of funny, because his whole hand regrew.

But the point is made. His cursed energy is still strained. He should be more careful using it, even with the reverse cursed technique working to replenish his reserves.

So, with that in mind, he takes a look around – and whistles, impressed. They really went all the way with the farce, this place looks like a mirror image of the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech Vault—

And like that, Satoru knows.

"Mirror," he whispers, and a moment later, he sends out a volley of small Blue, Red and Hollow Purple to tear the building down.

Does it use far more cursed energy than he should have used? Yes, it does. Does it prove his point in an impossibly obvious way?

Yes, it does.

He floats out of the ruins of the mock-Vault, hands loose at his side, unworried, grin on his face, fringe obscuring his gleaming Six Eyes.

He may be shirtless, all his scars bare for the world to see for the first time in years, and covered in dirt and blood from the battle at Origin and the collapsed building.

But he's Gojo Satoru, the Strongest, one of the Four Gods. The Unlimited.

Sure, he doesn't exactly know what the 'Four Gods' bit actually means, but he can guess. Imaginary Gods are created from the cumulative fear of the masses. Vengeful Spirits are the curses that dead sorcerers can turn into after death.

Combine both, a strong sorcerer becoming a curse after death while being the recipient of enough fear and hatred, and you get something else.

You get Ryoumen Sukuna.

And apparently, Gojo Satoru, in this new age.

Seeing how Imaginary Gods are created, and the fact there's only three—four, counting Satoru—now, that means they are remnants of the Human Age.

Sukuna, of course. Angel, because they referred to themselves as one—and being from Hiroshima, and old enough to remember the name, plus that 800-year-long history with Sukuna, supports that theory. And, if they go by names, Sakura, named after the Sakurajima volcano herself.

… Maybe that's why the chibis are chibis, actually. There are no more 'primordial fears' without humans, now, even if there are still curses. Satoru will have to ask Sukuna, when he catches up again.

After he beats Kouhai down for this attempt at bragging around the fact he 'defeated' an Imaginary God of Satoru's status, that is.

"O Kouhaaaaaai… Come out and plaaaaay… This senpai would like to join the gaaaame…" he calls out in an eerie singsong tone as he finally leaves the debris behind and touches down, bare feet never truly stepping on the rock shards the destruction spread all over the place.

He just regrew his feet, he's not stepping on sharp pebbles without growing some calluses first!

Of course, by then, Satoru has already attracted enough attention to have a handful of second grade and a few semi-first grades waiting for him just outside the dust cloud.

The weird thing is that they seem, to all effects, human.

Satoru lifts an eyebrow and tilts his head, curious and confused. Mirror sure takes itself very seriously. That almost looks like the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech main buildings.

"Halt! Vengeful Spirit, you have trespassed upon sacred land!"

"He's just standing there…"

"You will be exorcised to purge your evil from the world!"

"But he looks like Gojo-sama…"

"Surrender to your fate!"

Satoru flicks a finger, and the loud-mouthed idiot is twisted into a messy death. The others jerk away, startled and scared, while the one muttering under his breath all while his buddy did her speech actually bows low in front of Satoru.

"Throughout heaven and earth, I alone am the honored one," he whispers, feeling a high much like he had felt back then, over a thousand years ago, when he'd come back from the brink of death to send Zen'in Toji to his. "She was really annoying, wasn't she?" he asks the terrified weakling with a huge grin on his face, even going as far as to lean closer to try and see if he will steal a peek.

He doesn't. Such a good doormat.

"So! Now that we've got that out of the way, where's your boss? I have a little thing to tell him about forcefully inviting his new friends," he asks the crowd, clapping his hands as he decides to ignore the doormat, looking over them – and freezing, eyes growing sharp and grin toothy.

That one right there, half-hidden behind an assistant, is an exact replica of Inumaki Toge.

He gulps, wide-eyed and sweaty, holding onto the shoulder of an empty sleeve, as Satoru's grin widens threateningly.

"Playing games still, Kouhai? I hadn't pegged you for the type. But if that's how you want it…" he whispers, raising his hand again, slowly, enjoying the way they all quake in their boots. "I'll kill all of the puppets until the puppeteer shows up."

"Stop!"

Satoru freezes in place, his body seizing at the order that seems to have been sent straight to his cursed energy.

Immobile, locked up in his own body, imprisoned—

He twists his cursed energy in his chest, amassing it for just one fraction of a second – and lets it blow.

Dust and debris erupt all around him, startled screams turning into pained turning into silence, replaced by crashing rocks and rushing wind and crackling as threads of Red and Blue run all over his surroundings in an immediate two-meter radius. There are a few sparks of Purple when the threads glance off of each other, but Satoru simply lets them dispel themselves.

Eventually, silence falls again, and Satoru allows himself to dispel the Limitless keeping him aloft in the middle of the new crater he has created, stepping back on solid ground—

Just a step further from that original first step, actually. One of the doormat's severed legs is there, likely the biggest piece of him left, and that's just disgusting.

Also, it's very red. The blood, that is. Satoru is getting angrier and angrier the longer he stays here.

"Enough games!" he roars, glaring at all the signatures he can see, not only those cowering all around the crater, but also the others hiding away where they think they can't be seen. "Call your Yagami!"

They don't, in fact, call their Yagami. Instead, more fake sorcerers show up, as if numbers could be able to suppress him. Satoru's scowl vanishes as he sighs, disappointed, before a new grin curling with bloodlust replaces it.

Sure, he doesn't have the cursed energy for this, but he's Gojo Satoru.

He doesn't have to fight at all.

Someone makes the first move, but Satoru's Limitless keeps the arrow from touching him. For some reason, that gives the other fakes pause.

"Limitless?!"

"But it can't be…"

"How did Geto manage to incarnate a cursed spirit in Gojo Satoru?"

Satoru's blood runs cold, and he immediately turns to the last speaker with a seriousness that makes him flinch.

Ijichi Kiyotaka.

And that name…

"You there. What did you just say," he orders, and the Ijichi-lookalike trembles, pointing at himself shakily before he realizes that, yes, Satoru did mean him.

"I-I-I… I wondered h-how Geto managed t-to—"

"Stop," Satoru orders, lowering his hand to stare at it as if he hasn't seen it in…

In one thousand years.

Wisps of Red, Blue and Purple curl under the new skin, turning it almost iridescent under Satoru's Six Eyes.

Ijichi said 'Geto', not 'Kenjaku'.

Satoru clasps his hands with a burst of cursed energy, eyes closed so tightly that spots of color flash behind his eyelids—

"Ah, there you are. How did you manage to get lost in the Link?" Sukuna's voice asks, and Satoru's eyes snap open with such speed that, for a moment, he finds himself blind. "Well? Did the cat—?"

Sukuna turns from where he had been opening the door of his house at the Hill, and his eyes widen in shock.

Satoru takes a gulp to get rid of whatever's blocking his throat, but doesn't even bother to fake a smile.

"You won't believe what just happened to me."

JUJU STROLL!

Satoru stares at the scroll in his hands despite the way they've started to tremble.

Like the ones in the living room, it depicts something not entirely true, but no less real for it.

In it, a pale being floats over a pit filled with ripped limbs, arms open with its hands up, almost as if daring the observer to 'try and get me'. There are weapons and bolts of cursed energy suspended around it, turning to dust the moment they get too close. The figure is wearing dark pants, but it's otherwise shirtless and shoeless. Its hands and feet glow with streaks of red, blue and purple, as do the thick Lichtenberg figures running up its arms and the thinner ones branching off of the parallel vertical lines on its bare chest and the ragged horizontal line on its stomach.

It looks like a morbid smiley face, almost. Satoru's hand traces the scar on his stomach, from when Sukuna burnt the poison out of him, and the new ones on his chest courtesy of Yuki's construct.

On the scroll, the figure grins impossibly large and sharp. Its white hair spikes in a way that should be impossible without something holding it up. Its six eyes glow gleefully, one pair in red, another in blue, and the centermost and largest one in purple.

Satoru lets out a shaky breath.

"Let me guess. The Unlimited."

"It's from a collection. Legends of the Birth of the New Era. A bit of a mouthful, no less true for it. There are supposed to be written manuscripts that go with those, but I don't have them. I didn't think I needed them," Sukuna explains with a shrug of his remaining shoulder. "Let's get some rest. We can check the library tomorrow, if you're interested. Or maybe the other colonies will have something more on that."

Satoru swallows and exhales shakily one more time. Then, slowly, he puts the scroll down in its box – and Sukuna grabs it before he can close it.

Satoru looks up in surprise. Sukuna shrugs dismissively again, even as he turns his back to Satoru and walks to the living room, scroll in hand.

"I know its story now. It can go onto a wall," he explains, not turning back, even as Satoru follows almost hesitantly. "Plus, next time the brats come by, you can entertain them with this. You lost the bet, after all."

"I did not!" Satoru snaps, startled out of his shock by that outrageous claim.

"I killed two of the bastards and you only got one."

"Tengen was braindead because of my Domain."

"But I dealt the finishing blow."

"I destroyed the whole colony."

"I killed most of the curses."

"Did not!"

Outside, unfazed by their bickering, the birds chirp happily away.


AN: No, I didn't know what was going on when I wrote this one either.

Eventually, I figured it out.

The Juju Stroll from last episode fits chronologically after this episode and its own Juju Stroll. Just keep that in mind as we go further into the rabbit hole...